Mark’s betrayal had not erased the good years we shared. It had not made every memory false or every kind thing he had ever done meaningless.
But it had changed what I was willing to accept from the man he had become.
I could acknowledge our history without surrendering my future to it.
I could love my son without making his decisions for him.
I could remember Jenna’s kindness without pretending that her betrayal had never happened.
And I could let go of Mark without spending the rest of my life wishing him pain.
People later told me that Daniel and I had handled the discovery brutally.
They said we should have confronted them immediately. They said we should have tried to save the marriages. They said gathering evidence and speaking to lawyers before confronting our own family made us cold.
Perhaps they would have handled things differently.
But they hadn’t been the ones sitting in that cemetery.
